ALBUS THE WISE
by Theadle
Summary: Albus is young and confused. He continuously mocks Hogwarts and keeps a journal with all the dirty secrets. This is that journal. WARNINGS: SEXUAL THEMES, BAD WORDS, THEMES OF SEXUALITY
1. Entry 1

These characters, however little a part they play in her canon, belong to J.K. Rowling and her Harry Potter series. This story is written in journal from the point-of-view of Albus Potter, younger son of Harry Potter. All grammar and spelling of terms is confined to the character in question.

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_**Boys of this Chapter~ (NOTE: all characters are third generation Potter alternative canon)**_

-Louis Weasley: son of Bill and Fleur Weasley, seventh year Hogwarts

-James Potter II: son of Harry and Ginny Potter, sixth year Hogwarts

-Albus Potter: son of Harry and Ginny Potter, fifth year Hogwarts

-Charles Garely: son of Carol and Jessie Garely, sixth year Hogwarts

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First Entry

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The following is an exercise of forcing myself to write continuously on subjects which I find to be of importance in my life. What can I say; I was forced by those closest to me.

No less than six years ago, I was sitting in those chairs closest to the raised platform the Hogwarts Professors traditionally sat on., awaiting my turn to be sorted by the ever-mystical hat that (or who) usually sat proud on a dusty old shelf in the Headmaster's office.

Now, I can't help but giggle at those crazy kids practically flinging themselves onstage to be sorted. Overly excited kids being tossed into a castle to practice magic might've seemed like something vaguely reasonable back in the day, but the day you have not one, not two, but three broomsticks fly through your window is the day you screw every inhibition that kept you from judging. Now I'm not even biased in saying those puffy-faced dorks chattering up hell in front will sooner raise demons from the after-life than effectively cast a single solitary spell.

I'm not even bitter. I get to sit through James and his rants every day when his indifferent ass slips down into the slytherin table; on those days when I don't feel like humoring that lobe in his brain which produces angst and furious emotions of all shapes and sizes. Sadly, that very boy is laughing at me while I'm writing this, telling me _I'm bitter._ No, I'm simply stating that the bunch of immature brats up there are only destined to make people like me cry over the next generation.

Enough of this, Victoire just walked by. Heads are turning when she starts her 'sorry I'm late there was a death eater and I had to help it' speech. You can't really see it but the seniors are fawning like horny teenagers. One of the Weasleys just whispered a completely non-inappropriate comment about Victoire and handle-bars in my ear, so let me edit my previous statement.

_Extremely horny teenagers._

Can anyone below the age of 27 blame us for our immodesty? I'm watching cheer after cheer after cheer after cheer raising from the tireless horde bunched up at the head of the room. Headmaster is roaring above them like some entertaining host. I'd bet he feels like a god up there. The first year, The Headmaster was quite mystical and cool. Now, I know for a fact the Headmaster is just a prudish demon with horrible skin and a watchful eye out for stupid upper-classmen, as opposed to the lower-classbrats who will probably begin a new dark wizard cult.

Headmaster watches over us more ardently because, he claims, 'we are too old to be acting this way'. I always scoff at that excuse. So instead of starting early and pumping all the bullshit out of our chubby little heads, he waits until we've gotten a few more piercings and BUIs before telling us we are stupid. Upper-classmen are required to come to these functions as a 'support the youth' initiative, which of course doesn't work. About half the table are magically stripped from the ball-room, and with little mercy the upper-classmen are forced to scramble for and reserve seats wherever they can. The kids dock on the boats around 7:30 or 8:00, so we are usually sitting and/or standing there for four whole hours. I barely stand in lines for movie premieres that long, and I even have fun waiting for those damnit.

Forgetting all the peeves I hold towards the common freshman, I'm really happy for them. Because of magical politics and such, magic has recently become a little less of a private ordeal. Now, magic schools are often bombarded with thousands upon thousands of profiles on each of these children, with only a select few being chosen each year to begin schooling. The main aspect of being accepted to a School for The Wizarding Arts is the expectation that the student will one day take up a job in the magical realm. Although this is a great policy, I'm beginning to think they're making up organizations to make jobs for all up-in-coming graduates. The Ministry of Defense's "Library of Arbitrary Select Items" is probably the most useless place I've ever gone to, and yet they employ an insane amount of people. They suck in employees and somehow push out miles of unexplained cash. 'LASI' remains the most curious case in all of the Ministry's history.

While I've been ranting (with a few interruptions from fellow magical mates), the event has begun to dye down. The House Leaders have begun sectioning off their troop and are now trying to lead them all to the dorms. The rest of us are meant to stay here until the younglings are settled in. Poor fellows; little do they know how many pranks they'll be in for tonight. One of the kids was looking at me funny. I hope he gets a chicken crapping into his mouth while he snores. So many of the kids are trying in earnest to act as if they don't care that they're here while people like me scoff in lieu of our own warm memories which are now being ignored and trivialized by a bunch of pseudo-free-thinking folk.

The candles in the ball-room have seriously begun to dim. More of the upper-classmen are being called out into the dorms, with a sole few left to sit around in the dim light and quiet echo of the vast space we continue to live in. At one time, I wondered how the upper-classmen lived in their dorms, separated from us lower-classmen; and so the first time I entered the public baths during 'scrub-ups', one could very aptly and verifiably say I was floored. With the expansion of the sports department came a flood of beefy jocks who presumably have absolutely no shame. With us lower-classmen being the posers we were, a lot of us tried to play ourselves off as being completely oblivious to the rather hunky fellows we now realized we would bathe with every night. The whole thing, without fail, burned out in hilarious fashion by forcibly outing a few poor souls who would be subject to gay jokes for nearly their entire Hogwarts tenure. The first bath soon became a test of metal for the male sex. If you could withstand that first night, you were a true man.

Of course, nobody and their brother wanted to make it easy for us, so the challenge was thusly continued. One senior would be appointed at random to go around and slap every new boy's ass. Usually, the 'random' choosing came out to Charles Garely. Garely knew exactly where on the ass to slap you to pinch up your nerves and give you one of those 'I'm nervous' boners. Often times, you'd hear most of the jocks cackling with laughter every time they saw a rising boner. In truth, we all knew Garely just held a tick on stimulating people, so the theory that every man who fell prey to him was gay was stupid. People like me could shockingly resist such feelings, regardless of how unusually often they are chosen to be homo-tested. I had a feeling Garely used a spell to do what he did, but I was pleasantly surprised to be wrong when I didn't feel an inch of an urge when he came around to me. The boys were apparently so surprised; they decided to test me again and again with heightening intensity. Fucking James simply leaned against the shower wall with tears of mirth coming down his cheeks. He was so amused that his younger brother was being molested that his naked ass slipped and fell onto a bar of soap.

I didn't succumb to my nerves because I'm a different kind of boy. I'm not like the boys that act on impulses or rage or laugh at silly things. I'm a good-natured boy, but I don't really feel so challenged by life. Maybe I'm too immature to understand how arrogant I really am, or maybe I'm going through one of those 'phases' which I hear are complete mind fucks. I'm simply wired differently than the others, no matter how non-conformist and hipster that may sound. I really don't feel much when tempted by will or force.

However, my dearest diary – and this is why I'm writing to you, I have an experiment of the will I'd like to document in you for safe keeping. One particular person has roused my strange and rare intrigue these past few years. I wish to discover the end of this challenge before I leave this place. I understand this shouldn't be so difficult, but the special circumstances surrounding my problem inhibit me from reaching a solid and tangible conclusion.

One boy – Louis Weasley – has become somewhat of an obsession of mine. Call my forever distanced relationship from him what you will, but that distance allows me to safely observe him without some idiot making jokes and discovering something.

This WILL NOT be one of those stalker/lonely-lover novels where the girl doesn't know the guy actually likes her. I can't define how I feel for Louis. Louis is a distant relative but a close one. I share many memories of Louis's love and kindness very fondly in my past. I can't put a pin on what I want. All I can say is he's the most fascinating guy I've ever met.


	2. Entry 2

These characters, however little a part they play in her canon, belong to J.K. Rowling and her Harry Potter series. This story is written in journal from the point-of-view of Albus Potter, younger son of Harry Potter. All grammar and spelling of terms is confined to the character in question.

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Boys of this Chapter~ (NOTE: all characters are third generation Potter alternative canon)

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-Louis Weasley: son of Bill and Fleur Weasley, seventh year Hogwarts

-James Potter II: son of Harry and Ginny Potter, sixth year Hogwarts

-Albus Potter: son of Harry and Ginny Potter, fifth year Hogwarts

-Charles Garely: son of Carol and Jessie Garely, sixth year Hogwarts

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Second Entry

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I REPEAT: _**This WILL NOT be one of those stalker/lonely-lover novels where the girl doesn't know the guy actually likes her. I can't define how I feel for Louis. Louis is a distant relative but a close one. I share many memories of Louis's love and kindness very fondly in my past. I can't put a pin on what I want. All I can say is he's the most fascinating guy I've ever met.**_

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The assumption I stalk Louis because I love him is what I find would be the worst thing someone could extrapolate if one were to find out about my…thoughtful investigation.

I'm not love-sick for Louis. Louis is more of a pet project of mine; a curious case that has more than perked my interest and that is exactly why I want to discover the origin of my fascination. I would brush this off as a passing fling, which I did, however I realized with surprisingly little shock I had actually always been this fascinated with Louie. 'Louie' is the 'proper' pronunciation for his name, by the way. Aunt Fleur has insisted since our childhood we keep the 's' silent, for what reason not even Louis himself understands. Louis never wanted a nickname, or much of anything for that matter. I've become deeply invested in mining through my memories to discover new traits about Louis. I pride myself in being the only one of the boy's 'fans' (if that's what you'll call me) that doesn't need to get close to Louis to find out more about him. Louis has had many problems with women in that regard. One girl, snitch and evil as she was, _actually _began dating James to get more information about Louis. I wasn't really shocked to hear this, as the girl had been one of Louie's most avid fans years before abruptly throwing herself at James. My brother did not share the thought apparently, and I was the one who gathered his strain in bulk. Suffice to say James was angry with the girl after finding out she couldn't care less about him. It was days before James got over that one.

Yes, I am most privileged to be aware of Louis's many best kept secrets, whether he likes it or not. During most of my summers, the Weasleys and Potters have something of a melting of the pot. Shell cottage had to be expanded to nearly six floors to accommodate every couple and child from either family dating back to Grandma Molly and Grandpa Arthur. The Potters and Weasleys eventually melded so many of their holiday traditions, we actually began calling Mr. and Mrs. Weasley "granny and boppy", like we were all one big jumbled family. Bill Weasley, however, is usually out during our gatherings. Legend says Bill used to come to the Quidditch World Cup with the gang, but now we only see him with us at Christmas. Maybe he thinks we're scared of him, what with those creepy scars of his…

So Louis is often dumped at Shell Cottage to bunk with the liked of us if Fleur decides she needs to be somewhere or if she gets Ginny to go with her into town to go shopping for the day. Louis has always seemed content with the whole deal as far as anyone's asked him, but I have a feeling he wishes his parents would be more sensitive. I'm also aware of Louie's incessant reading. You wouldn't think an Adonis like Louis would be a book-worm, but then again, you wouldn't think he listens to ABBA either.

Oh, that's right; Louis listens to all the stereotypically emasculating bands and loves them all.

My answer to that is 'who fucking cares'? The fan-girls also wouldn't know of Louis's yearning for the ocean like I do. Louis doesn't show it, but he loves the ocean. Louis might not care for Shell Cottage, but he'll live in a shack if it's next to the ocean. I can see the expression on his face while he walks down the beach with a book in-hand. Louis likes the peaceful things. Most of his fans think Louis has a scarred background and needs or to be so attractive. Unfortunately, Louis wouldn't lie and say he's been around the world, but when he says he and his family spend time in Paris every girl shrieks with interest in the assumption that traveling between two countries makes you a world traveler. Louis doesn't care much for Paris, he says the city is far too busy. Personally, I wish I could live in the city more often, but Mum and Dad are really protective about that sort of thing.

I could list the nuances of Louis's self, but my journal is not for doing that. I already have a notebook that keeps a proper record of all Louie's odd tendencies. People think that simply because a boy pops into a school with a rather bland personality, they can surely say there's something dark behind that façade. Truly, all the fake smile means is that Louis holds a continuing distaste for social contact but endures it with class so that nobody will disturb his peaceful times later on. I'm still waiting to see if that plan has worked, because it seems Hogwarts is NOT the right place to make that conclusion. For some strange reason, Louis doesn't want people to discover he's a book-worm. Maybe he doesn't want his fan-girls trying to mimic that as well, as if reading were such a sacred thing that any use of it for the sake of provoking a relationship would be a debauchery of the form. I find this ironic, as most of the books poor Louie reads are romance.

I am however surprised at the wealth of appreciation Louis has for classical literature, especially plays. Louis loves reading plays; he even showed me one he wrote over the course of three or so years. The idea was not so original, but I thought the way Louis could bend words was sensational. If only Louis was interested in translating that sense of manipulation towards the willing female kind, he'd make a lot of people from both sexes very happy, including his frightened parents. Apparently Fleur thinks the fact the Louis hasn't been 'around the bend' yet is abysmal, and hopes to change that fact by setting him up again and again with super-models that actually seemed quite interested for the most part. The girls that didn't were just playing hard-to-get to pull him in, only to find me giggling when it didn't work.

Somehow, I felt like I knew Louis better than anyone. I can't tell why I feel like I can quantify him so easily, but I just can. I'm continuing to write in this journal while sitting against a tree that is rooted uphill from the big lake around Hogwarts. I'm glad the weekend is always scheduled right after the first day of introduction, because Hogsmeade looks so much more appetizing right before school. I'm not at Hogsmeade luckily, though James would want me to be. Like Louis, I have no desire to make idle chat about rumors or happenings to people. I really don't care about all those things. I'm guessing the only two excuses Louis has for being in Hogsmeade would be either he was taken there via peer-pressure, or some cute girl cried enough and made him emotional enough to reluctantly bring her down there to cheer her up. Otherwise, Louis and I would be laying here killing as much time as possible at peace.

I can write more easily than I can read, sadly enough. When trying expertly to devise a plot of any kind, I flop around the third or fourth minute. I can write continuously however, so I suppose that counts for some sense of commitment to the literary arts. Maybe I can write for a magazine one day, because that's about as much ambition as I'll ever get. God help me when I turn sixty and suddenly realize I let myself go numb around the age of twenty and stayed on auto-pilot all those years.

This is too sad.

I need to go hit something…

And so, the very minutes after writing that were spent traveling to Hagrid's, who greeted me as soon reunited kin. I told him I wanted to do some more training in archery, so he gladly set me up in back with an over-sized bow and a bag of rocks he collected from the forest. The giant told me I came at just the right time, as he needed to go collect some "new agmonitus serum" from some mystic creature and wouldn't be back until a few hours later. The man told me I could just leave everything there and he would collect it all later, even though Hagrid himself knew I wouldn't keep anything out to be stolen.

Soon enough, my forearm and shoulder were aching from shooting the powerful arrows. I had gone through all the arrows and striped the heads off, as not to waste them. It seems like every time I come out to practice, I have to re-learn everything I learned twelve times ago. Hagrid says it simply takes time to get everything in order, but I beg to differ with a lot of the things he says.

Interestingly enough, my trip back to the tree did not go without pleasant surprises. I find a partial vela-blooded man lying there with a pornographic novel against his breast and decided to let him have his rest. I instead opted to lie down near him on the grass. The boy would know I was there and aware of him when we woke up, for I knew him to be at least that smart. I didn't have time to think on it much, as the very boy stirred awake almost the moment I sat down. I hesitated in confronting him, but my doubts were soon washed out when he greeted me. I turned around to watch his glorious self, and that soft smile was on his face that made me a little fuzzy inside. Only Louis could make that happen, but then again, Louis was a mob of people's 'only one'. I chatted him up a bit after his vain attempt to hide his lewd literature. After explaining to him that I didn't care, the man opted to loosen up a bit and let it slide.

After our silent agreement to stop talking, I laid near him for nearly two hours awake. I was thoroughly surprised the man didn't leave during all that time. Louis even left with me as I got up to leave. He followed me back to the slytherin dorms and parted ways in complete silence. Neither of us were trying to play up a 'I don't care about you' act, we just regarded each other with an understanding that must have constituted thanks on both our parts. Maybe avoiding social contact with each other is wrong, however that issue does not concern us at this time in our lives. It seems Louis and I were glad to be in each-other's presence without feelings of awkwardness or expectant feelings of desired but strangely forbidden interaction. That must have been a refreshing feeling for Louie, now that I think about it. With all the unabashed cries for attention he receives every day, maybe my silent presence was something of a hope to him.

Whatever, I'm tired and everybody's coming back now. I need some rest and I want to get a head start so I won't need to experience the snoring chorus again tonight. Merlin knows that never gets any better.


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